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"nightless" poems
o halogen light with CD and cassette holder how your ribs they envelop a promise of symphony as you stand tall and straight like a guard at the gate you relieve all my troubles with your blinding light bubbles you brighten my day keep the shadows away though your color is lightless you make me so nightless your a wiry lifeline steals perception of time how quick the hours fly by i'll never know top of your glow to the tip of my toe your electric insides could frizzle the tides and your mental effect... well... it gives me good rides
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May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
ODE TO HALOGEN LIGHT WITH CD AND CASETTE HOLDER
Walking again in evening dusk it is a must walking through immense wonders poetrysites, poetryhomes and all that wonders need to walk this evening bright see the afterglow in the ditch alright greet Hello Poetry and Hello Friend walking through this immense land who will I meet, who shall I greet? where, what and when I'll tweet all poetryhomes I have been not really many sites I have seen sad sound, mad sound, all insane hellooooo oh no not that again! walking through this endless land looking for the right poetryman afraid I must give up this time no not again poetry sublime the evening dusk lasts nightless long what was that song, what had gone wrong must I not do this walk or not...? irgendwo I have a friend, but forgot in this endless meadowland just see a tippy-bit of gland where is that ditch from far a stitch with enough water and which this is the source of health finding it, oh what a wealth! the afterglow is still the same where is that source, is this a game? oh, there at quite a distance I can see with no resistance oh so sorry, that man has run away so, no poetryman this way but where is the source now clear chrystal water with that glow oh look, the source...wow! surely I'll find that bestimmt now approaching the ditch that clear water I hope it shall not alter anymore into red water bow myself into deepness and see the beauty of clearness wow, clear chrystal source I see someone, please don't force oh...hello....no one.....is it? oh hello....feel so stupid there is someone, it is Sylvie now you know it, it's Hello me... © Sylvia Frances Chan saturday 13-04-13 @22.31 hrs p.m.- W.E.Time
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Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 4:29 PM UTC
Hello Me!
Walking again in evening dusk it is a must walking through immense wonders poetrysites, poetryhomes and all that wonders need to walk this evening bright see the afterglow in the ditch alright greet Hello Poetry and Hello Friend walking through this immense land who will I meet, who shall I greet? where, what and when I'll tweet all poetryhomes I have been not really many sites I have seen sad sound, mad sound, all insane hellooooo oh no not that again! walking through this endless land looking for the right poetryman afraid I must give up this time no not again poetry sublime the evening dusk lasts nightless long what was that song, what had gone wrong must I not do this walk or not...? irgendwo I have a friend, but forgot in this endless meadowland just see a tippy-bit of gland where is that ditch from far a stitch with enough water and which this is the source of health finding it, oh what a wealth! the afterglow is still the same where is that source, is this a game? oh, there at quite a distance I can see with no resistance oh so sorry, that man has run away so, no poetryman this way but where is the source now clear chrystal water with that glow oh look, the source...wow! surely I'll find that bestimmt now approaching the ditch that clear water I hope it shall not alter anymore into red water bow myself into deepness and see the beauty of clearness wow, clear chrystal source I see someone, please don't force oh...hello....no one.....is it? oh hello....feel so stupid there is someone, it is Sylvie now you know it, it's Hello me... © Sylvia Frances Chan saturday 13-04-13 @22.31 hrs p.m.- W.E.Time
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53
Tongueless Breathless Restless In this Lightless Nightless day There's numbness. Fingerless, Stifling coughing Ageless, noiseless crying Witless, Senseless .Lost. But not for Lack of trying. Listless. Falling. Deeply Sightless Devoutly faithless Evenly devoid And purely dying. For wet whimpers Through thickest walls.
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Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 11:12 PM UTC
Under Scrutiny
Ever the fruit-laden Mother, whose flickering belly shows signs of nightless day... dayless night. Unadulterated call of plumbed natures, spelling upon her belly...creative tensions unstrung to bind bounty. She engrained the music of silence, to filter these slower light years. Reflections of mirror images...cadenced in hope.
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Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 10:25 AM UTC
Flickering Belly
sleep curved miles of patched dead boys into me like a scythe. their quilts were not mine to sweat through, to drench nightly with my self. but i cried out anyway. said i needed stained warmth more than coffins ever could. bare as they were. prodigal as they were. i turn aside in bed. i sweat it out. sleep handed me its crowded city plots and boxes of one-way ticket disownment boiled down to an art exhibit of photographed bodies. black and white bodies. end of life bodies. i tore them into manageable halves. their varied human pieces quilted themselves together onto the floor. their eyes floated to land at my shoes. i stared. yet it was sleep who drew in the fluttering array of lost bandanas dyed with every coy color present on the rare days here that always smelled more like mornings, the colors peeking like barefoot children just around the corners of their smirking, drowsy city avenues after rain. sleep dreamt me an after hours carousel. the revelry of skintight garbage bags brimming over with ****** boys. lovely boys. boys with a gleam. faceless baby boys with sores like eyes, full of their junk they treasured, fondled, kissed the little pound of flesh that was theirs, they gave freely, bait and tackle to swallow whole. dust bowl dumpling soft. pulsing expectance. those skins underneath you’d discover pressed to an eternity of sorts between two slurs of the same brick, that its nightless club grime mumbled disco sickly to me & him. and i’d be on my knees. by a bed, a river, a quilt, a pew, an avenue, a grave. whatever useless dreams may come, i always find myself there. already knelt in every way i couldn’t possibly comprehend. gravely, maybe beautifully- beside another slumbering boy too distant from life not to reach for.
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Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 12:42 AM UTC
for breathless boys, to sleep
sleep curved miles of patched dead boys into me like a scythe. their quilts were not mine to sweat through, to drench nightly with my self. but i cried out anyway. said i needed stained warmth more than coffins ever could. bare as they were. prodigal as they were. i turn aside in bed. i sweat it out. sleep handed me its crowded city plots and boxes of one-way ticket disownment boiled down to an art exhibit of photographed bodies. black and white bodies. end of life bodies. i tore them into manageable halves. their varied human pieces quilted themselves together onto the floor. their eyes floated to land at my shoes. i stared. yet it was sleep who drew in the fluttering array of lost bandanas dyed with every coy color present on the rare days here that always smelled more like mornings, the colors peeking like barefoot children just around the corners of their smirking, drowsy city avenues after rain. sleep dreamt me an after hours carousel. the revelry of skintight garbage bags brimming over with ****** boys. lovely boys. boys with a gleam. faceless baby boys with sores like eyes, full of their junk they treasured, fondled, kissed the little pound of flesh that was theirs, they gave freely, bait and tackle to swallow whole. dust bowl dumpling soft. pulsing expectance. those skins underneath you’d discover pressed to an eternity of sorts between two slurs of the same brick, that its nightless club grime mumbled disco sickly to me & him. and i’d be on my knees. by a bed, a river, a quilt, a pew, an avenue, a grave. whatever useless dreams may come, i always find myself there. already knelt in every way i couldn’t possibly comprehend. gravely, maybe beautifully- beside another slumbering boy too distant from life not to reach for.
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46
Of long streets marked by dim lights. Concrete steps that ran the side, of your leathern'd shoes worn out, by the myriad looks that browsed, through your soul and left you untouched. Solemn, You, sideways the smile. Poet Prophet of the Night. Only you could fathom All: Broken windows of the Soul; Nightless smiles, and daytime Owls Who, in smooth cadence walked, stepping into voids of Coin, selling their skin; conjuring The Harlem Dark, Of their opaque, blythe... Lost Dream. J. Eduardo Ramos©
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Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 2:54 AM UTC
Thinking of Langston Hughes:
Things get out 'at shouldn't izzat a melting inkyness rubbing its catness on your put together put on we know what's melting on the sofa finger fast nightless time searches me for day's devil I have it here with me now I'll run right over Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis
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Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 7:53 PM UTC
Here's the Time
Are you there to keep me save? upon the hill of nightless evening twitted..that's how my heart behave a restless nightmare that never ending could I be there to keep you save? are you ok? pale is your face, in skin of hollow but you are there, so beyond the grave out of window, begin hardest to follow
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Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
Invitation Nowhere
seven poltergeists in seven homes inopportune the world and its coasts and when the tide rolls in alone will you be there? a nightless time a moonless month sleepless, smiling watch fear run with its tail between its legs when the sirens wail when hell's lid is popped you'll be there honeymooning, swooning stay, then sway your life away let the ghosts haunt your home pull the fragile waist of your misfortune close take the dance by its pensive hands it is a parasite and you are a gracious host for it fresh, lockstep pseudo-symbiotism I know no one would ever tell you otherwise.
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Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 9:32 AM UTC
synnecrosis
Before I traveled the world I sat and I wondered about the bathroom sink. Does it have meaning! Drops of life, next to a human waterfall? I wondered for then and then only. My life,  now having no abandoned thoughts. Yes. I live for the now I sing songs in my shower of earths water untouched and blow distant light as I run at the day so shall we forever stay in our way? Forevermore. March away into my nightless abiss.
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Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
Would Life Move On ?
You are the moon on high tide pulling everything where it needs to be You are the rain in Washington drenching everyone's bones Yet I'm stuck in a nightless desert.
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Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 12:23 AM UTC
2
Nightless days, Shadowless suns, Specks of dust, Among the sand.
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Mar 18, 2019
Mar 18, 2019 at 3:25 AM UTC
A shadeless morning